


all the time in the world

by kickedshins



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Could Be Canon, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 01, date night we break into the office and find our boss's age, we have... foreshadowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23451199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickedshins/pseuds/kickedshins
Summary: “Awww, didn’t you just a few seconds ago say that I was full of fantastic ideas?” Tim says.“Ideas, yes,” Sasha agrees. She turns to give him another quick kiss. “Theories, less so.”“Hey!” Tim protests. “I can theorize with the best of them.”“Of course, dear,” Sasha says, patting his cheek lightly. “Now, come help me theorize about where Jon would keep his personal information. This ‘violate Jon’s privacy’ date night has been significantly lacking in the violations of privacy department.”orTim and Sasha decide to go through Jon's computer to find out how old he's actually turning on his birthday.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 142





	all the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> uhghhfdjsfhdksgha the first few minutes of 161 straight serotonin... after listening to that bit for the third time i felt i absolutely had to bang this out. so here it is

“Shhh,” Sasha manages through laughter. “If you’re here while I’m doing this, you’ve gotta shut up.”

  
“Why?” Tim demands. He’s sitting on Jon’s desk, legs swinging from side to side. He twists around to look at her as she straightens her posture to match the back of Jon’s chair. “It’s literally just us in here. Not like there’s anyone else to alert.”

“Because!” she insists. “It’s just the– Jesus, the  _ vibes _ , I suppose. We planned this out well! Let me feel that I’m the protagonist of high-stakes heist for a moment, will you.” 

She decided that Tim would stay late one day reading one of his circus books into which he gets so engrossed, and that once Jon left and told Tim to lock up after him, he’d ring Sasha and let her in, at which point they’d go forward with their plan to prove that Jon is not as old as he says he is.

“The vibes,” Tim repeats, deadpan but smiling.

“Yes! The vibes! Now go on and hush up so that I can figure this out.” She looks back to Jon’s computer, readjusts her glasses, and presses her palms up above her head in a stretch-knuckle-crack-combination. “Alright.”

“Okay, drama queen. You’re not  _ hacking _ anything,” Tim says.

“I quite literally and definitionally am,” Sasha retorts.

“Hmph. Well.”

Sasha types in a string of zeroes. The computer stays locked. “Okay,” she says. “I mean, it’s not as if I really had such low expectations of his computer security, but, like, I very much did. Is it sad to say that I’m proud of him for being a touch more secure than that with his devices?” Jon’s always shocked when Sasha can find basic personal information about a statement-giver through the magic of Facebook. It’s a bit saddening, actually, but it’s not as if she’s going to complain about his praises of her basic grasp of how the Internet works.

“Bet his phone password is one-two-three-four, though,” Tim says. He pushes himself off the corner of Jon’s desk and comes around the back of his chair. With one hand on Sasha’s shoulder, he says, “Why didn’t you just try to rifle through his wallet, see the date on his ID?”

“More fun this way,” she responds honestly, leaning into Tim’s touch.

“What, it’s the vibes?” he teases. 

She nods. “Now you’ve got it! So, er, how do we feel about  _ thearchivist _ as a potential passcode?”

Tim snorts. “Christ. I hope it’s not that.”

She presses a few keys and sighs. “Yeah, well, it is, in fact, that,” Sasha says, gesturing to the now-open screen. “Wow. His desktop is the most boring thing I’ve seen in my entire life.”

“What, no incriminating folders of Top Ten Sexiest Book-Binding Jobs In All Of Britain?”

“Tim, just shut up, I beg of you.”

“Ah, but why bring me along if not for my biting witticisms?”

“Yes,” Sasha says dryly, “a joke about how Jon’s a nerd who probably finds libraries more attractive than people. How original. How hilarious.”

“Now you’ve got it,” Tim parrots, giving her a wink. “So, if there’s no book porn, what  _ does  _ he have?” He leans forward, resting his chin atop her head to get a better look at the screen.

She gives it another glance to make sure she hasn’t missed anything more interesting. But, no, all that blinks up at her is a folder titled with STATEMENT RECORDINGS, a folder titled with STATEMENT FOLLOW-UP INFO, and a folder titled with WORDS, a folder titled with MISC (GENERAL), and a folder titled with MISC (WORK).

“He collects… words?” Sasha says incredulously, clicking on the third folder. And sure enough, it’s full of about a hundred screenshots of interesting words and their definitions. “Jesus. Makes it markedly less surprising that he never wanted to go for drinks with any of the Research team after work.”

“Statement recordings… what, he doesn’t use the tapes?”

“He does for some of them,” Sasha says. “At least I think so. I’ve heard what sounds like the recorder running occasionally, but I’ve also walked in on him recording to the computer, so I suppose it’s both.” She’s always been a bit more wary to walk in on the recorder statements. He’s only done a few so far, about seven or so, but there’s something about the ambiance that comes from behind his office door that makes her hesitant to walk in on him while he’s committing a statement to tape.

“I like the tape recorders,” Tim says thoughtfully. “I think they’re kinda charming. Hey, d’ya think I should tape-record the whole birthday surprise thing?”

Sasha shrugs. “Why not? Seems cute. And I think it’d be quite lovely to have for posterity’s sake.”

“It would,” Tim agrees. “That was a fantastic idea. I am full of fantastic ideas.”

“Hmm, yeah, you are,” Sasha says, smiling. “Hey. Come here, will you?”

“I’m already right here.” He rubs a small circle into the top of her back.

“No, I mean—” Sasha pushes him back and gestures for him to lean down in front of her, and when he does, she presses a light kiss to his mouth.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,” she says pleasantly. “Just because I like you. And what with your absolute abundance of fantastic ideas, well, I thought I should match it with a fantastic idea of my own. And my fantastic idea was thanking you for your fantastic ideas with a kiss.”

“Ah. Of course. Makes absolute sense, Miss James.”

“Well, we’re workers at a prestigious research institute. I should certainly hope my I had a decent head on my shoulders, Mr. Stoker.”

“You’ve got a wonderful head on your shoulders,” Tim says. He buries a few kisses in Sasha’s hair, and she hums contentedly as she picks her way through the contents of Jon’s computer.

“I do! Hey, you know, for all of Jon’s claims that he’s older and ergo wiser—which, you know, is absolutely falsified—he’s not exactly any more qualified for this than the rest of us, is he?”

Tim makes a noncommittal noise into the crown of her head. “Not sure. I mean, I think not? Hell, I know  _ I’m  _ not qualified to be an Archival Assistant, whatever that means. But it pays better than Research and doesn’t seem to have a dress code, so, y’know. Plus I got to transfer with you, which is a plus. But, anyway, no, a few years in the publishing industry and a few years in the Research section of the Institute does not an Archivist make.”

“Not Archivist,” Sasha says. “Remember? As Jon’s password proclaims, he is  _ the  _ Archivist.”

“Right, right, of course,” Tim says, voice dripping with a feigned apology. “Well. At least we’re in it together, yeah? I mean, I know Martin doesn’t have any history with Library Science either.”

“I do,” Sasha says.

Tim looks a bit surprised. “Really?”

Sasha supposes it probably never came up in conversation. It’s not exactly the most interesting of facts. “I mean, not a lot. But, yeah, I did take a course on it in uni, so more than the rest of you, I suppose.”

“Your supposition would be correct, then,” Tim says. “Hm. Maybe you were meant to be Archivist and Elias got his wires crossed while busy with being mildly creepy and sexually attracted to scheduling and accidentally wrote down Jon’s name instead of your own.”

“Seems likely,” Sasha snorts. 

Part of her agrees, though. Qualifications aside, she just has more general competency than anyone else in the Archives. Not that Tim is at all incompetent, but he does tend to get sidetracked by his own personal passion projects. And Martin really isn’t as awful as Jon insists he is. Not in the slightest. But, overall, Sasha is simply more on top of her work than the rest of them.

But she’s fine being an assistant. It feels significantly less stressful, and she still gets a load of good work done. And that’s what this is about. She likes this work and she wants to get it done and do it well. She was lucky enough that Jon randomly chose her to transfer to the Archives with him, so she supposes there’s no use in lamenting about her exact position.

  
“Awww, didn’t you just a few seconds ago say that I was full of fantastic ideas?” Tim says.

“Ideas, yes,” Sasha agrees. She turns to give him another quick kiss. “Theories, less so.”

“Hey!” Tim protests. “I can theorize with the best of them.”

“Of course, dear,” Sasha says, patting his cheek lightly. “Now, come help me theorize about where Jon would keep his personal information. This ‘violate Jon’s privacy’ date night has been significantly lacking in the violations of privacy department.”

“Well, let’s get cracking, then. Have you checked the misk-gen folder?”

She looks at him, confused. He certainly didn’t say a real word just then. “The what now?”

“Misk-gen,” Tim repeats. “You know. Miscellaneous general. That one right there,” he says, pointing.

“ _ Oh _ . Yeah. I’m in it right now. Don’t see a ton of things. Er, look, a flyer for the liveshow of some ghost podcast, What the G—”

“What the Ghost?” Tim interrupts. “Damn. I love that show. Georgie Barker is fantastic. I mean, I don’t necessarily agree with her on everything, and, as you know, I wouldn’t call myself a skeptic by any stretch of the imagination, but she really seems to go for pretty much anything. But, I mean, eagerness to accept any and all ghost stories aside, she’s quite bright and funny. Wonder why Jon was going. He hates that sort of stuff.” Tim rolls his eyes. “Lame of him. I mean, he works here, of all places!”

“Georgie Bar— oh, is that the podcast you listen to sometimes in the shower? I can always hear the intro before you turn on the water.”

“Yeah!”

“Damn catchy intro music,” Sasha says. “Should I give it a listen?”

Tim nods emphatically. “Oh, yes. It’s fantastic. Won some award last year, I think. And it’s not too spooky. Certainly not as spooky as that YouTube channel—Ghost Hunt UK, remember that?—you saw me watching the other day,” he’s quick to add. Sasha’s grateful for that. She’s glad he knows her well enough to be conscious of what she would and wouldn’t enjoy listening to.

She laughs. “You dare utter the s-word? Here? In the Archivist’s own office?”

“I do, in fact, dare.”

  
“Why, you rascal!” She presses a finger into his chest, accusatory.

“ _ Rasc _ – Sasha, I’m not ten. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me a rascal beyond the age of ten,” Tim laughs. “But, no, yeah, it’s not that scary, and I know you’re not the fondest of interacting with more of the Artefact-Storage-type-shit than you strictly must, but this isn’t at all that sort of energy.”

“Well, thank you,” Sasha says softly. “I’ll give it a whirl. Now– oh, look! Backup_docs.png. Jesus. How absolutely bland.”

“What, are your copies of your passport info and the like hidden under a more interesting monkier?”

Sasha raises her eyebrows and nods violently. “Yes! Because, look, what if a hacker were to get into my computer? That would be the first thing they’d look for. Personal information. And then they could steal it. You know, like we’re doing with Jon right now? I need to protect myself from identity theft, Tim.”

“Pretty sure you’re safe from identity theft as long as you don’t reply to any emails from foreign princes asking about your hand in marriage, or whatnot,” Tim says.

“What, speaking from personal experience, are you?”

“Oh, you know. It’s impossible for me to resist a pretty face. Especially the pretty face of a foreign prince.”

“So  _ that’s  _ why you came to the Institute,” Sasha laughs. “Because a foreign prince stole all of your money and you wanted to come to get paranormal revenge on him.”

“Is it too hard to believe it’s because the Powers That Be told me I’d find you here?” He smiles, but it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. 

Sasha doesn’t press. She knows he doesn’t love to discuss certain aspects of his past, and she respects that, though she can’t deny that there’s always a small itch at the back of her mind telling her that she absolutely has to know. Ah, well. She’s always had an issue with being just a touch too nosy, but she doesn’t think that inquiring about her boyfriend’s personal past after only a few months of dating would be proper form, so she’s more than happy to stave off the desire.

She hopes she finds out someday, though. She hopes he gets comfortable enough with her to tell her why he’s so cagey about joining up with the Institute. Why he changes the subject any time she makes a comment about meeting his family. Why she’s woken to him, once or twice, while he was staying over, crying out in his sleep about some sort of Grim-something-or-other.

For the time being, though, she’s content to flirt and focus on the now.

“Certainly,” Sasha says, eyebrow arched. “Because I thought you didn’t believe in any sort of Powers That Be.”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Oh, you know. The power of love is not confined to any one spiritual belief.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snorts. “Here. Take a photo of this bit of the scan of his passport. Don’t– Tim, no, don’t take a picture of the whole thing.” She slaps his hand down, and he gives her a sheepish grin.

“Right,” he says. “Identity theft bad. Simply getting his date of birth.”

“Yes, we shan’t go around breaking any laws or codes of ethics.”

  
“You say as you’re literally hacking your bo—”

“I know, Tim. I know.”

“So that’s… twenty s… minus nineteen eigh…” Tim counts on his fingers as he calculates his boss’s age. “So he’s turning thirty, then?”

“Guess so. Jesus, he said he was turning thirty-eight,” Sasha says, shaking her head with laughter. “That’s ridiculous. He’s basically the same age as us. He’s basically the same age as us, and he’s trying to pretend he’s eight years senior than to how old he actually is. He’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst sometimes,” Tim says affectionately. “Martin’s doing the same, I think.”

“What, being the worst?”

“No! No, not ever. Lying about his age. Trying to seem older than he is. He says he’s, what, thirty-three? But I don’t think so.”

Sasha tsks. “Yeah, but you have to take into account that he’s got chronic babyface.”

“True, true,” Tim says. “Still. He can’t be older than Jon, right? Or at least not by years.”

This conversation is quickly getting tired, and now that they’ve gotten the information they need to ambush Jon at his surprise party, Sasha’s about ready to head home. “Why are we speculating about this?” Sasha asks.

“Good question. No clue. Did you have any other ideas?”

“Oh,” Sasha says, grinning widely. “Plenty.”

“Care to elaborate?”

  
She turns away from Tim and back towards the computer, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. “Yeah, I thought I’d take a deep dive into the fascinating contents of Jon Sims’ folder of words he finds interesting and is planning on teaching himself so that he can drop them in casual conversation and try not to act too pleased with himself when no one understands what he’s trying to say.”

There’s a beat where Tim tries to figure out if she’s joking or not. 

Sasha closes all the folders she’s opened and turns off the computer with a satisfying click. She stands up out of Jon’s chair and pushes it in neatly, giving the desk a final look to make sure nothing appears too out of place. When it’s to her satisfaction, she nods sharply, then spins herself into Tim’s arms.

“That sounds like a very good use of your time tonight,” Tim says teasingly. “So you’re planning on bringing that computer back to my place, then? We can teach each other vocabulary? Is that your plan?”

“Not in the slightest,” Sasha laughs. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and tugs him down to meet her. She can feel his smile against her lips.

When Tim pulls back, one hand in her hair and the other on her waist, it takes everything in her to not instantly kiss him senseless into the wall of the office. He looks so deeply affectionate. His smile is punch-drunk and easy, and his eyes are full of light. She settles on giving him a series of quick kisses all over his face and jaw before tugging him out the door.

They stumble down the stairs of the Institute, hand in hand, laughing all the way. And when the cool night air hits her slightly overheated face, Sasha exhales with simple happiness. 

She’s got a job she enjoys and a boss who thinks she’s the best of all her co-workers (which she is!). She’s got a wide-open future and a birthday party to help plan. But for right now, all that really matters is that she’s got Tim’s hand in her own and they’ve both got smiles on their faces and something that could quite easily be love, given enough time, in their hearts.

And they’re happy and they’re healthy and they’re young. (Some of them are eight years younger than originally thought, actually.) So they’ve really got all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading! kudos/comments always appreciated, or yell @ me @ commaperson on twitter :D


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